Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
CIARA
My heart hammers so hard against my ribs it feels like it might burst right out of my chest.
I throw back the sheet and climb out of bed, seething as I look around the floor for my clothes. I quickly pull them back on before stalking from the room.
The door to Ronan’s office is closed, but that doesn’t stop me from throwing it open and storming into the room like a tornado.
“We’re not done here.” I fold my arms.
He doesn’t even look up from his computer, which only pisses me off more.
“Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over this?” I snap before I can think better of it.
The second the words leave my mouth, I know it was the wrong thing to say.
He slowly gets to his feet, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he finally looks down at me.
My breath catches in my throat as his eyes darken, any lingering trace of the man who gave me such pleasure only hours ago, long gone.
"You think I’m throwing a tantrum?" His voice is low and cold as he stalks around the desk toward me. "You had one job, Ciara. One. Enter the goddamn data.”
“I did that—”
“That was it. No more, no less. If I’d known you couldn’t follow simple orders, I never would have agreed to let you help out in the first place."
I scowl at him, heat flaring in my cheeks. "Simple orders? Seriously? Your system was so outdated it’s a miracle that the feds haven’t come knocking. If anything, I did you a favor."
He lets out a harsh, humorless laugh that sends a cold shiver down my spine. "A favor? Is that what you’re calling this?"
"Yes. Because like it or not, I made it better.”
He steps closer, towering over me.
"Maybe if your family knew half as much about business as they did about starting wars they couldn’t finish, you wouldn’t be here."
I stiffen at his words, though I shouldn’t be surprised.
It seems whenever Ronan feels cornered, he lashes out the same way every damn time.
"Why do you always bring up my father the second you’re losing an argument?" I ball my hands into fists at my sides until I’m sure my nails have pierced my skin. "It’s pathetic."
His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t respond. Though from the look in his eyes, I know that whatever thoughts are coursing through his mind right now would cut even deeper.
"If you’re going to be an asshole to me, at least get some fresh material." I don’t wait for his response. Instead, I turn on my heel and march out of the room, too seething to continue this conversation.
He curses under his breath as I leave the office, but I don’t stop until I reach my room.
“Screw him.” I collapse onto my bed.
I stare at the ceiling, blinking furiously against the tears that threaten to spill over.
How is it that only hours ago he had my body trembling with pleasure, and now I want nothing more than to put his head through a window?
God, why do I even care? It’s not like I expected him to be grateful for what I did, but I also didn’t expect him to kick me out of his bed for it. Not that I thought that’s where I would be, but still.
Was what I did really that bad?
Okay, so I shouldn’t have been snooping around his computer, but I’m not some idiot.
I know what I’m doing when it comes to tech, and I know that updating his payment system will likely save his ass in the long run.
But for some reason, all Ronan sees is betrayal and yet another reason not to trust me.
“Fuck.” I throw my arms over my face.
This is the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. Updating his system was meant to gain me access to his family, not shut me out even more.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, trying hard not to cry because Ronan Sullivan doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.
Instead, I force myself off the bed, too wound up to even think about going back to sleep, and grab some clean workout clothes from the closet, then head into the bathroom to get ready.
Splashing some cold water on my face and brushing my teeth makes me feel a little better, but my hands are still shaking so much from the interaction with Ronan that it takes me a second to lace up my sneakers.
By the time I open my bedroom door and peek into the hallway, Ronan’s bedroom door is closed and the light is off.
Good.
I don’t want to see his face right now, or quite frankly, ever.
I creep downstairs, moving as quietly as I can so as not to wake the sleeping lion, and head into the kitchen.
My gaze immediately lands on the discarded dinner that I spent hours making, and my throat tightens.
Last night, Ronan looked like he was willing to extend a hand, to open up to me in a way that was unnatural for him. For a moment, I actually believed that we could get along, and not just when his head was between my thighs. But I should have known better.
There’s no denying the chemistry we have when we’re naked. But it seems when we’re fully clothed, we can’t stop wanting to tear each other’s throats out.
I stalk over to the table, pick up the discarded plates and toss the food right in the trash and empty the rest of the wine down the sink. Then I make it a point to get everything neat and clean, as if that alone could erase everything that happened.
Once I’m done, I pour myself a glass of orange juice and gulp it down, wincing at how cold it is. My stomach also growls, but I ignore it because I’m too wound up to eat. Instead, I wash my used glass, dry it, put it away, and slip out of the back door.
The early morning air is cool and crisp against my skin, and I inhale deeply, letting it fill my lungs as I walk around the side of the house toward the driveway.
The grass glistens with dew, and the first hints of the sunrise peek along the horizon in streaks of pale pink and orange. But I don’t stop to admire it.
I need to get far away from this house before I decide to go back inside and murder Ronan in his sleep. Or beg him to take me back to his bed.
Fuck.
After stretching my arms over my head and groaning at the slight ache in my muscles, I set off down the long winding driveway at a slow jog.
It’s been a long time since I went for a run, but after just a few minutes, my muscles remember what to do, and I fall into an easy rhythm, my feet pounding against the ground with every step.
For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe.
I used to love running. I was the star of the track team in high school as well as college. It was a way for me to escape when life got messy. When my da was fighting with my mom or when the mafia wars were creeping closer and closer to home.
Running gave me a sense of freedom that I couldn’t find in my day-to-day life, but once my father died, my sneakers began collecting dust.
Maybe because I knew that no matter how far or how fast I ran, I couldn’t escape the grief of losing him.
But right now, as my feet pound against the sidewalk, that feeling of freedom is starting to blossom once more in my chest.
My lungs ache as I breathe, and my thighs are beginning to feel heavy, but I welcome the pain because I know it’s the kind I can survive. So, I push harder and faster until I lose track of time.
My feet carry me forward as the sun slowly rises. My skin becomes slick with sweat, and loose strands of hair stick to my face, but I still don’t slow down. At least not until I see the lake come into view, and I stagger to a halt.
I hadn’t realized where I was going, but it seems my body was acting on autopilot. Why else would I find myself at the lake where my father used to bring me all the time when I was little?
We’d sit on the grass for hours, feeding the ducks and laughing at their greedy little fights over the crumbs. Sometimes, he’d even sneak me candy without my mom knowing, saying it didn’t count if we were outside.
This lake was our spot, just for the two of us. Not even Callum would come down here. It was a safe place where there was no work talk or fighting. It was a place where I could simply be a kid who wanted to hang out with her dad without all of the pressure of mafia life.
I take off at a jog, veering off the road and cutting through the trees until the full lake comes into view, the water dark and still under the faint light of dawn. Only then do I slow to a walk, my heart aching at the sight of the lake as I’m flooded with memories of my father.
I think he used to love coming here even more than I did, and not just for the secret candy.
Sinking onto the grass at the water’s edge, I hug my knees to my chest as I try to catch my breath.
God, I miss him.
I miss his laugh and his terrible jokes, and the way he made me feel like I was the most important thing in his world.
When he was around, life felt simple and safe.
But now it’s like I’m constantly treading water, fighting to keep my head above the surface.
I blink up at the sky as the first real rays of sun start to streak across it, and wonder if he’d be proud of me if he were still around.
Would he understand why I married Ronan? Or would he hate me for it? Or maybe he’d tell me to find my own path and to stop living in the shadow of old feuds.
I collapse back on the grass and close my eyes, trying to make sense of my racing thoughts.
Regardless of what my father would think, all I know is that the more time I spend around Ronan, the more confused I get.
He’s infuriating and arrogant as hell. But he’s also fiercely loyal and passionate. And last night when he let his walls down just a little, I saw that he’s capable of such staggering tenderness that it makes my heart ache.
I drag a hand through my messy hair and groan.
This deal was supposed to be simple. Get in and get close before destroying him and his entire empire. Yet somehow, I’m the one who feels like she’s crumbling.
I lean on my elbows and stare at the sky, breathing in the cool morning air as I let the pain settle in my chest instead of fighting it.
Maybe Mila is right. Maybe it’s time to stop clinging so tightly to the past and instead, figure out what I want rather than what my father would have wanted or what Callum expects of me.
The only problem is, I’m not sure I know anymore. But for the first time in a long time, I think I want to find out.